Monday, June 21. 2010
The invite link is here.
Stand for Israel, Stand for the West
The Friends of Israel have joined together in a new international initiative on the basis of the following convictions:
1. Israel is a Western country. With a liberal democratic political system operating under the rule of law, a flourishing market economy producing technological innovation to the benefit of the wider world, and a population as educated and cultured as anywhere in Europe or North America Israel is a normal Western country with a right to be treated as such in the community of nations.
2. Israel´s right to exist should not be questioned. In the face of a uniquely campaign of deligitimation, we remind all people of goodwill of the true historical context in which the State of Israel was re-established following United Nations Resolution 181 in 1947. We state emphatically that that decision to recognize the right of the Jewish people to national self-determination was not merely a gesture of compassion following the horrors that had befallen the Jewish people during the Holocaust. It was, above all, a recognition of the right of the Jewish people to establish a sovereign state on land in which they have had an enduring presence and to which they have had a historical claim for thousands of years.
3. Israel, as a sovereign country, has the right to self-defense. Israel is indeed a normal Western country, but it is one which faces unique threats and challenges. Israel is the only state in the world forced to fight one war after another to secure its very existence. Confronting some of the most violent and well equipped terrorist groups in the world it is also the only country whose right to self-defense is consistently and widely questioned. Today, Israel has been forced to fight on two fronts: one to defend its borders and another to defend its legitimacy. We stand with Israel, and demand that it be accorded the same legitimacy and the same right to defend itself as any other Western country. Human rights statutes designed to defend the dignity of people everywhere, laws on universal jurisdiction intended to be used against criminals and tyrants and international bodies established to secure justice, have been subverted, their guiding principles stood on their head, to wage war against Israeli democracy. The campaign against Israel is corroding the international system from within.
Continue reading "Invitation to join Friends Of Israel"
The final lines from a Robert Hayden poem posted by neoneo yesterday. A poet who understood fatherhood:
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Many Moms do not know that, but they know other things. Dads know.
Saturday, June 19. 2010
 How they produce The Rumford Meteor with a staff of only 72 (Most are Supervisors, Planners and Administrators, but the head count also includes the pimply kid who goes out for coffee, donuts, pizza, cigarettes, and to pick up the police blotter - and the commission-only Head of the Sales Dept. - her photo on right, returning with a bag full of advertising contracts. There is no Editor.) is beyond me.
Tonight, The Meteor is waxing gibbous. One thing Maine needs is one or two knowledgeable Conservative pundits, but I do not know whether such thing exists any more. The Meteor needs to provide one, but what is the right "voice"?
I wonder how many folks in the Great North Woods have broadband and, from my experience with a number of woods-dwelling Down Easters on hunting trips over the years, how many of those Yankee Rednecks give a damn about what is going on outside their cabin or their pick-up. Is alcohol an issue? Um, d'ya think? Meth too, it seems to me. However, most of Maine's population is along the coast (I think. It sounds like something a knowledgeable poster might say, so I made it up). Definitely, in summer.
The Meteor covers the waterfront and, as I have said in the past, sets a standard for local/state news and info that other regional sites may envy - or use as a model. I think local intertube news/info will be the future of the local rags, but I have been wrong once or twice in my life. Sure makes sense to give it a try.
Marginally, maybe. Maybe, from being around curious, achievement-oriented, high IQ peers. From that, one might become competitive, inspired, and humbled - if one were not lucky enough to have those qualities in the first place.
Truth is, as I say here ad nauseum, that we don't know what "education" means beyond readin, ritin and rithmatic. A college degree can mean anything and nothing because becoming aware of the world and the world of the past, and the stories and the ideas of the past, cannot be fed. It must be taken. All edumacation is self-edumacation.
I think America would be better off if you could buy an Ivy League diploma online for $39.99 after answering a few questions about calculus, Julius Caesar, and Leonardo.
The Egalitarian Craze.
Friday, June 18. 2010
For a little Friday evening fun I thought I'd cobble together some of the animal videos from my art gallery. Enjoy.
Bird Apes Dog, Horses Around, Pigs Out, Is Catty With Ewe
Here's Einstein the parrot. If you watch him carefully, you'll see that he's got one thing, and one thing alone, on that beady little brain of his:
Her right hand.
I watched three DVDs on training parrots a while back, and they just live for that next snack treat. As with other animals, you find out what treat they like the most and then hold that one back for when they do a trick correctly. The parrots in the DVD were certainly eager to learn — but you can bet it wasn't for learning's sake. Like Einstein, they kept their sharp little eyes on the hand that held the treats almost the entire time.
Which isn't to diminish this bird's exceptional repertoire. Take it away, Einy!
This Dog's No Rummy
Here's 'Gin' and owner doing some freestyle dancing.
Continue reading "Cool Animal vids"
I like the idea of "truth without value." How come it took me this long to find that concept? AVI's final paragraph of The Morality of Nonbelievers:
The Christian answer, as I have suggested, may be no truer than the others. It may be just one more variation of photosynthesis. I offer here no defense of that. Perhaps there is some other explanation outside of mankind – no, it would have to be outside of life itself – no wait, it would have to be outside of this accidental planet and even the accidental universe – that would make something in morality real, and true, and valuable. But absent any such, there isn’t anything that qualifies as morality – and there is simply no meaning beyond the masturbatory for a nonbeliever to give himself any credit for having one equal to the believer’s.
I agree with everything AVI says, and I feel motivated to think harder about things which affect me which have truth but little value.
Lux et Veritas, as they say in Rome. They used to say it in New Haven, too.
Jack Fuller has an interesting essay on the future of journalism and the news, and it is worth reading if only to see how older dead-tree newspeople view the world.
I disagree with much of it, and with his premises too. Plus his brain thing is just silly. Anyway, I have no time to share my thoughts about it this morning.
An email from Nathan, our correspondent in Jerusalem:
 The head burger assembler at Burger Bar is a tall, handsomely groomed, black-bearded Samurai master of the knife. More a ridged machete or sword he wields, rather twirls, flips, flicks in a ballet of carbon-forged steel. He calls me Abelleh, "little father," as if I could have fathered such a towering genius of the blade, with a smile that dims the knife"s glistening. From my loins, not likely. But as one of my professors who served in the Pacific said when complemented for his respect towards Japanese colleagues said, "Gotta be nice to these bastards; never know whether one of 'em is mine."
I take refuge in Burger Bar after a marathon of moving, a different choreography of furniture shifting, socks disappearing, blaring badly-sung, out of tune Hasidic music blaring as the "Dosies" (those who have found haredi religion) whip away an adult lifetime's collection and disappear it into a half-container.
Only the Chagall I worried about, insured separately, and between my house and the truck, it disappeared, evaporated into the blazing Jerusalem arid air, whiffed away as if heavenward. One of the packers complained, "Chagall, Shmagal, what is this, who is this, what does it matter?" Only the insistence of my helper, Keren, and a search of many unlabeled packages was Abraham consoling Sarah as the angels come to announce her fruition, does Chagall reappear. A city of miracles, Jerusalem is. And persistence, as Keren raises her voice and pays back with interest. ("The Chagall is equal to the whole value of the shipment. You will open every box until we find it.") Tough chick.
Continue reading "Moving Day in Jerusalem"
Thursday, June 17. 2010
A buddy who is a fan of Judge Yachts emails me the following:
Those of us originally from south of the Mason Dixon line get tired of hearing about how good the Yankee boat builders were. Southern boats ran rings around those Yankee blockades during the War of Northern Aggression.
Anyway, link is to a builder who constructs Chesapeake Bay style workboats, all gussied up for fishin' and cruisin' They don't have the high, flared bow like the Carolina style hulls of Buddy Davis, but have a nice wide transom so a following sea doesn't cause problems.
Wednesday, June 16. 2010
 John Wesley (1703-1791), founder of what we now call Methodism (the term was originally used as an insult but was eventually adopted by Wesley), and his brother Charles spent some time in Savannah, GA. I lost a bet about that at a dinner party last year, which cost me a bottle of good Montrachet.
Methodism was the ultimate source of our 12-step programs: the Wesleyans liked to have methods for spiritual discipline. John Wesley was an evangelist, and liked to preach outdoors. He tried to convert the Georgia Indians.
He was a "by faith alone" preacher.
He got in a bit of a problem with a Georgia lady, and eventually returned to England. Here's a piece on Wesley in Georgia, and here's a Wesley bio.
The hymns written by John and Charles Welsey are among my favorites. Charles wrote 6000 hymns. John even produced a hymnal but, as this site notes,
Today people are much more familiar with some of Charles Wesley's hymns than with John Wesley's sermons.
Image of John Wesley above, Charles Wesley below:
Good online radio, from the Ivy League: WKCR. On Saturday they had a Howlin' Wolf festival which blew my mind. And right after, I went to hear Nozze di Figaro.
How much amazing music can a brain process in one day?
Tuesday, June 15. 2010
Thanks to our friend Marianne for reminding us of this critically important day of National Awareness and Action.
Make sure you get out there and abuse at least one of those "elders" today. More, if you can find them. If they have any grey hair, go for it. Do not beat anybody under 30, as they used to say.
If you happen to be an elder, whatever that is (related to Elderberry?), then abuse yourself in your way of choice.
I have planned my day to find a crew of those elders in line for the Early Bird Special at my local Long John Silver's. It's right next to Red Lobster, so we'll have a chance to abuse quite a few seafood-eaters.
I hate to do it, but it's for America. And, let's admit it: sado-masochism is exciting.
Monday, June 14. 2010
From a discussion about the current education of men in America at Chicago Boyz:
Boy/men seem not to be dropping out to “do” something but dropping out to do even less. The number of young marriages in which not only is the wife the breadwinner but the husband isn’t even taking care of children is increasing. These often dissolve – perhaps because women are too conventional to respect a mate who plays video games all day while they work or perhaps because women want children of their own rather than merely a needy husband. (No, I’m not going to diss a stay-at-home dad – I’m sure it is a useful choice; but many are childless marriages. Few women are at home for the years pre-baby.) And we should at least recognize that a woman does offer something in terms of child-bearing and child-nursing a man doesn’t. Besides, I don’t see choices – I see drift.
Like I always say, most men were made just for fishin, huntin, and lovin.
Addendum, from a post by AVI:
I started opining 20 years ago that feminist resentment was largely driven by women who had followed the directions and played by the rules, excelling in school - which was considered the automatic qualifier to success. We were all told To get a good job, get a good education, not just the girls. Then they left school and found that there were other, less-familiar laws of the marketplace which had seldom been mentioned. Heck, I felt the same way. Those boys and young men they had beaten, beaten fair and square at school, were finding all these other routes to success.
A re-post from Aug. '09, for Flag Day -
 All of the flags on houses in our Woodstock, VT photos reminded me that we have not had a flag since we rebuilt the side entry porch about 14 years ago.
Shame on me. It's a grand old flag.
I ordered a set from this place today. I will place the bracket low, so I can easily pull the pole out in rain or at night. I am not in favor of those night-lit flags, but I recall that Barry Goldwater had an automatic flagpole at his place in Arizona that lowered and boxed the flag at evening, and raised it in the morning.
I loved Barry, but that sort of hi-tech flagpole seems cheesy - and lazy - to a Yankee like me.
Sunday, June 13. 2010
From City State at The American:
For the first time in recorded human history, more than half of the world’s population has moved into a city or its environs from rural areas and small towns.
Considered historically, this process of urbanization has moved at lightning speed, especially in the past half-century.
Walked past the Joyce the other evening. $10 sounds good. Mrs. BD was trying to remember how many times she has seen Appalachian Spring.
I remember when old Martha herself would wobble out to the stage at the end of the performances.
A re-post -
The Greeks colonized Poseidonia - now Paestum - on the south-west coast of Italy (90 miles south of Napoli) around 650 BC. Poseidonia became the Roman city Paestum in 273 BC.
Paestum contains the finest complex of Greek temples in the world, which was discovered in 1762 by a road crew. They were built before the Parthenon was completed in the 400s (BC).
The modern town of Paestum is a seaside resort, but the reason to go there is to see the Greek temples outside of town. Our Dylanologist did just that (and brought me back a Paestum t-shirt!).
The splendid, if heavy-looking, Doric temple in this photo is known as The Temple of Hera ll.
Here's a photo of the 450 BC Temple of Hera l, later rededicated to Neptune. More info on the Hera l temple here.
Here's a photo bank of the contents of the Paestum Archaeological Museum.
A bit of commentary from the Great Buildings Online website:
When the ruins of Paestum were 'rediscovered' by 'antiquaries'�chiefly Johann Joachim Winckelmann�in the 1750s, "the ruins [were] then made widely known, and an enthusiastic appreciation of Greek art and architecture was also sparked...Because of Paestum, the Classic Revival was born with Greece, not Rome, ascendant."
� Deborah Fritz from G. E. Kidder Smith. Looking at Architecture. p16.
The three Paestum temples are all in the Archaic Doric style of heavy columns with capitals that are squat, or as Goethe termed them, 'oppressive.' By the time the Parthenon was finished (438 B.C.), columns were elegantly slender, capitals had an alert, load-bearing profile, and refinement attended every detail. Moreover, they were carved from Parian marble; Paestum's now crudely exposed shellstone shafts, it is only fair to say, were originally covered with lime stucco. As in Greece proper, the temples at Paestum face easterly so that the rising sun will awaken the statue within."
� G. E. Kidder Smith. Looking at Architecture. p16.
I wrote earlier today that Mozart had a negative feeling towards Roman Catholicism. I don't know where I read that. He certainly was a Freemason, and at least impatient with Catholic requirements, but never formally left the RC Church.
By coincidence, today Potemra has a post about Merton, Barth, and Mozart. A quote:
Merton and Barth were both wrestling with what it meant to be created in God’s image, and — as in the famous passage, Matthew 18:3 — saw that image most clearly in human beings who could express childlike joy.
Since I am specializing today in posting statements which I cannot source, I may as well mention that I once read that Barth said that this song summed up all anybody needed to know about Christian faith.
 Story here.
Photo of Dr. Bob's grave in Akron, from the story.
We finished up yesterday with a performance of Figaro by the Chelsea Opera in their usual space, St. Peter's Episcopal Church on W. 20th St. Just wonderful to be so close up to the sorts of remarkable singers small opera companies can get in NYC. I have decided that I prefer this sort of thing to the Met or the New York City Opera - and it is not just the price.
Lorenzo da Ponte was the librettist for Le Nozze di Figaro, Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte. A Jewish convert to Catholicism, it is said that he hated the RC Church as much as Mozart did, but I am not certain of that from a Mozart who said “Protestantism was all in the head.” Da Ponte was a priest for a while, and a famous scoundrel, debtor, womanizer, and MILF-predator.
Another cool factoid: St. Peter's was built in 1836 on farm land donated by Clement Moore who became Warden and organist for the church. The Moore family had a good-sized estate there, which was named "Chelsea." Moore also donated the land on which General Theological Seminary still stands, a few blocks away. St. Peter's is a fine old church but a bit down at the heels:
Friday, June 11. 2010
 Our friend Gregory (aka Sippican) is doing just that: Quiet, Numskulls, I'm Broadcastin'
From our friend Nathan in the future JerusaLand:
 Business Flash.
Dateline: The City formerly known as Jerusalem
In a shocking market coup, former Disney CEO, Michael Eisner, has been awarded the 99-year lease for Jerusalem, outbidding Jews and Palestinians.
“I am delighted, like I am in heaven, almost,” Eisner elated. “We pulled an all-nighter, God’s team and ours, but came out with the best deal for Him, a lucrative, exclusive contract for Disney, and Family Fun For All.”
God’s representative, C.O.A (Chief Operating Angel) Gabriel Raphael, added, “That Michael. Eisner has the first name of an archangel had no bearings on the negotiations: the deal was struck on its merits: the best price for God and a history of Disney’s fine management. Our C.E.O, whose name we do not use in vain, has had concern about management of this city, since Kollek was retired. We had handsome offers from the Vatican, Dubai, and Jimmy Carter, but our CEO is not in this for the money and we were searching for a manager and corporation with a reputation for excellent, consistent customer service. Based on market research, we have counted more smiles and a child-friendlier atmosphere at Disney than at churches, mosques and synagogues, or at Carter’s lectures.” God was not available for comment and messages were not returned.
Eisner effused, “After an international naming contest on Inter-American Idols, we are renaming the city, “JerusaLand,” City on the Hill, Fun-Town for All. Runners up were “Jewro-Disney” and “Mickey’s Heaven.”
“This is a new era for JerusaLand,” Eisner ebullianated. Since there are already only two entrances to the city, there will be entrance fees covering all events within, with VIP packages additional. No money will be used by tourists: everyone can buy Holy-Gelt chips, like Club Med, but without the Mediterranean nor sand. Everyone living in the city will be employees of JerusaLand Corp., International. We are professionalizing the beggars,” he continuated. “Everyone now begging, will be an employee of JerusaLand, and will be uniformed in historically authentic beggars’ tatters from the various eras. You can give Holy-Gelt chips to a beggar from Jebusite, or King David’s era, or Roman right up to the present, knowing that each beggar will turn in his chips at the end of the workday for a salary and benefits. We will have an incentive system for all employees, including beggars, with vacations to EuroDisney or Disney World. Beggars will be promoted based on performance, with areas near the Western Wall as prime.” Eisner notated that any Beggar-employees caught praying at the Western Wall, then requesting charity from others for their prayers, will be restationed by the Dung Gate. “Prayer will be free, no charge, in JeruseLand! This, the Big Guy insisted on.” Eisner enunciated.
“You will notice,” Eisner persisticated, “that we have renamed this the Western Wall: wailing is not permitted. Other activities, such as shuckling, dancing, spinning and bobbing are encouraged. We will have rides, including a praying roller coaster that while not the highest ever built, will be the holiest: imagine getting closer to God while looping the loop on the holiest mount.”
“And if that isn’t close enough to God,” Eisner emphasated, “We have an introductory package that includes DirectLine. For only fifty cents a minute children can use the Red Phone to talk with God!” When asked about the very reasonable price, Eisner pointed out that this was a local call. “God has specified that he will only talk with children, as they seem to hear what he says better.” (This reporter was able to use the service and can ascertain that God speaks with a Viennese accent, and responds with “Uh, huh.” Yesss,” and “Vat do you make of zet?”) Videophone service – called MosesPhone -- for those reclined, is planned in the future.
“We have specialty packages, for instance for Cohens. Since they can’t mount the Mount until the Temple is rebuilt, we have a hover-craft package, called Lift-a-Cohen (or, Coney–on-the-Spot) so that they can float over Aaron’s spots.”
Continue reading "JerusaLand"
Wednesday, June 9. 2010
Ed Driscoll covers 1969. Sorry, I cannot figure out how to embed this entertaining video.
Back in April I did a little bit of reminiscing about one of my Grandpas. At that time, I promised an open session for Grandpa reminiscing.
It is understood that Grandpas are or were not perfect, but each one is a story. A better story than those of parents, because the grandparent stories reach further into the past.
Sometimes I feel like I am an unsettled, unhomogenized mix of both of my Grandpas.
For example, my other Grandpa was the opposite of the warm, fun-loving one I posted about. This guy was a stern, dignified, laconic, unsociable, never smiling, morally-rigid GP and cardiologist who made house calls into his 80s. He totalled his car making a house call on one Christmas night in a blizzard. Cops took him to his house call with his big black leather bag, then back home, where he arrived bloodied but unbowed.
He worked 7 days/wk. Had zero tolerance for foolishness of any sort, and the only times I ever saw a smile was when he was holding a baby. He was not about "fun," and was a serious man who took life seriously. He had a dry Milton or Shakespeare quote for any occasion, and he liked a Scotch or two in the evening, neat. Smoked corn-cob pipes at work and at home. (It is only recently that one could not smoke in hospitals.) Osler was his hero, and he had nothing but contempt for FDR and Lyndon Johnson.
When he opened his medical practice, the scourges in CT were malaria, syphilis, puerperal fever, and TB and other infectious diseases - plus all the diseases we still have. Few people were "healthy," as we view it, in the 1920s and 30s: just imagine everybody today with a new hip or knee hobbling around painfully on canes, or stuck in chairs, or everybody today with a bypass or stent or heart meds, bedridden and slowly dying of heart failure. Not to mention untreatable Depression.
He grew up on a farm in northern CT in a hamlet named after his (and my) family name. Worked his way through college and medical school (in Baltimore), mostly as a cook during the summers at lumber camps in Maine and NH. (I never saw him even boil an egg - he always had a cook in the house. My Dad tells me that he did know how to cook pancakes.)
His first wife died of leukemia before she could have kids. He had been her doctor. He did not remarry until his 40s. Both of my grandpas lost young wives to illness. It wasn't rare at all, two generations ago.
Like most docs of the past, he was not much of a vacation-taker until his later 60s, but was known to enjoy fly fishing at his favorite getaway spot, Mohonk. He also liked the old resort hotels in Watch Hill, where he met his second wife. She was a summer hotel waitress there, but her main job was as a Brooklyn grammar school teacher, teaching new Jewish and Italian immigrant kids. Her parents were a farm family in Norwalk, CT., and I have no idea why or how she ended up in Brooklyn. She once told me she had to check the kids for lice daily.
Her Mom lived with them until she died aged 107. She had been a nurse while being a farm wife too. She did jigsaw puzzles, and looked like an Indian (she had plenty of Indian blood, I am told, but was not happy about that, I suspect).
Grandpa's garage shelves were piled with hearts and brains and kidneys in jars with formaldehyde or alcohol or whatever. Cool for a kid. As I recall, my Dad burned them - along with all of his old wooden file cabinets of medical records, when the old guy died at 86 or 87.
This is him at my aunt's wedding. My Dad's sister was a beauty and a Physical Therapist for the Army until she had kids, but she is now gone too:
His patients loved him but eventually he outlived most of them. Many paid him with farm produce, and the poor paid him with labor at his house - chopping wood, painting, cleaning up the grounds, etc. I remember stopping by and seeing a bushel basket of fresh-dug potatoes left on the back porch, and a basket of sweet corn another time. He had a good-sized vegetable garden down in the back, which he tended himself. Lots of wax beans, as I recall. I do like them too.
He had the first EKG machine in CT. We still have that German machine in its splendid mahogany case. It still works. I need to take a photo of it when I remember. I think my Dad intends to donate it to the Yale Medical School museum.
I'll welcome more Grandpa thumbnail sketches in the comments.
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